Pyramid Missing Scene
by Mele
Summary: Well, it's a Pyramid missing scene. Why wasn't Jimmy Palmer at Mike Franks' funeral? Ducky and Gibbs go to find out.


_**Notes:**__ My first attempt at an NCIS story. This is a little tag/missing scene to Pyramid, you know, just in case the title wasn't a clue. __ I really stink at titles. From the first time I saw it I noted that Palmer didn't attend Mike Franks' funeral, which, given his tendency to want to be a part of the team, regardless of the circumstances, struck me as odd. Also, come on, he's gotta have some reaction to being kidnapped and at least somewhat physically mishandled and scared. Hope you enjoy._

**PYRAMID MISSING SCENE**

By Mele

The funeral was short, to the point, and no frills, just as Mike Franks would have wanted it. And while Leroy Jethro Gibbs could not in any way say he was glad Mike had passed, he could feel that given the choice of being shot by a madman in the rain vs dying on a cancer ward gasping futilely for another breath, Mike would have chosen the madman any day.

Gibbs escorted Mike's daughter-in-law and granddaughter to the idling limousine, where her mother had waited during the military funeral. Though the old woman and Mike had never achieved anything that actually resembled friendship, she had developed an abiding tolerance for the man. She would stay a few more days to ensure her family was settled in their new home, and then return to her country. Gibbs gave her a cordial nod as he handed off his newly adopted 'family', and then turned to rejoin the men and women who were his work family.

"Hey, Boss, we were thinking, you know, it would be nice if we went over to Franks' favorite bar and had a drink in his honor," Tony DiNozzo suggested with more diffidence than his norm. This was a sad coda to what had been an emotionally and physically exhausting case. And Mike Franks' death had hit Tony harder than expected; he couldn't help but wonder how he'd handle it if he were in Gibbs's shoes and Gibbs was the one being buried. It was a sobering thought to say the least.

Gibbs quirked one of his wry half-grins and nodded. "That sounds like a good idea, DiNozzo," he agreed, noticing that everyone's expression lightened at his agreement. Well, almost everyone.

"A most suitable suggestion, indeed," Dr. Mallard agreed. "However, I shall be a bit later in joining you, there is something I must attend to first," he said, holding up a hand to forestall Abby's objection. "I promise I shall join you with all possible haste."

Gibbs considered his old friend, and then turned to his senior field agent, tossing him his car keys as he spoke. "I'm gonna go with Ducky. Why don't you take Abbs and my car, and we'll meet you there."

Tony caught the small projectile handily and turned to Abby, gallantly holding out his crooked arm for her to hold. Abby gave the two older men a reproachful glance, and then took the proffered arm with a small smile and slight old-fashioned curtsy. They took only a couple of steps, following Tim and Ziva's lead, when Tony turned back to his boss.

"Remember the rules, don't feed him after midnight and don't get him wet," he advised Gibbs and Ducky, with a smile and a wink.

Gibbs waved his hand dismissively at the younger man, while beside him Ducky gave in to a quiet chuckle. "There is something to be said about Anthony's dedication to lightening the mood and to his powers of observation."

"Yeah, there's not much that gets by him, that's true," Jethro agreed as he climbed into Ducky's classic car.

"And exactly why do you believe I need your assistance in this matter? Or even assume you know what the matter might be?" Ducky enquired as he started the engine and shifted into drive.

"You're going to check up on Palmer, right?" Gibbs asked, barely waiting for Ducky's nod of agreement. "Well, I have to admit, I didn't do my duty by him this time. I should have checked in with him to make sure he's okay. I figured we'd kill two birds with one stone."

"Jethro, he's my assistant, my responsibility, not yours."

"Duck, he's your assistant and you are part of my team, which makes him part of my team. Though I'd prefer he not be told that," Gibbs countered, noticing Ducky's grin of agreement. "With all the follow-up fallout after Cobb's death, I admit, I forgot to check that Palmer was doing okay. I know Vance told him to take the rest of the week off, but sometimes that's not the best option. He seemed fine at the time we got him out of there, and both Kort and Barrett said he was surprisingly calm and collected during the time Cobb had him, but we both know about delayed stress."

"Indeed we do. And while my young protégé has been remarkably resistant, and has shown more than once that he's got a brave and noble streak in him, he's also not trained for handling situations like being held hostage and tortured. Oh, heaven knows it could have been much worse, but still, it had to be terrifying for him. And his fiancée, Breena, is out of town this week, not due back until Tuesday as I recall. I simply can't believe I neglected to go see him before this," Mallard said with a frown and a slap to the steering wheel. "When I got stabbed in the hand at that crime scene, he called or visited me every single day, even though I didn't really want nor need the visits, or so I thought at the time. But in looking back, his dedication and friendship helped me more than I realized. Ah, here we are."

Ducky brought the car to a stop in front of a somewhat dilapidated three story apartment building, parking behind Palmer's seven-year-old Ford sedan. The front lawn of the place was brown and neglected, littered with bits of trash and abandoned toys.

"He's not exactly living the high life here, is he?" Gibbs noted as he exited the car and locked the door.

"Jethro, he's a part time assistant M.E. and a near full time medical student. This is actually better than I had during my school days," Ducky countered with a smile at the memory.

"Yeah, I sometimes forget he's still in school."

"Nearly done, at long last. And I couldn't be more proud. Soon he's going to be a married man, and a doctor in his own right. I feel privileged to have had a chance to be a part of this, truth to tell. Sometimes I think this is how I'd feel if I'd had a child and watched him or her achieve their dreams. It's a wonderful feeling, actually," Mallard ruminated before noticing the wince of pain on his friend's face. "I apologize, Jethro, I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"Not a problem, Duck. Just remembered how much I loved being a dad."

"Oh, dear, the day does seem rife with emotions, doesn't it?" Ducky commented with a sigh. "Funerals do have that tendency, however."

Gibbs shook his head and started toward the front entrance of the apartment building. "What's his apartment number?"

"317," Ducky supplied, following his old friend into the musty smelling lobby. "The elevators are this way, as I recall."

"Been here before, huh?"

"Once, a while back. Mr. Palmer needed a ride, and I agreed to provide it. However, upon my arrival my assistant was nowhere to be found. Eventually I had to come inside and find him. Oddly enough, he's never been late since," Ducky told him as they boarded the small elevator.

"Can't imagine why not," Gibbs smirked as the rickety device started it slow rise. His friend tended to be somewhat slow to anger, but impressive when it did happen.

Dr. Mallard chuckled proudly as the doors opened to a narrow hallway. "This way."

Apartment 317 was smack in the middle of the building, and while the two men could hear assorted noises from other apartments, there was no sounds coming from Jimmy's.

Dr. Mallard reached out and knocked three times sharply on the far from sturdy door. A man two doors down opened his door and glared at the two men in the hall before slamming it shut. Ducky was about to repeat the knock when the door opened slightly, the security chain inside still in place, and Jimmy Palmer peered out at them. Not even bothering to speak the young man pushed to door shut then opened it completely, admitting his two bosses.

"What's happened? Did something go wrong at work? Why didn't you call?" the assistant M.E. asked in rapid sequence. "Am I in trouble?"

Dr. Mallard stepped in front of his assistant, putting his hands on the taller man's shoulders, and speaking calmly. "Slow down, Mr. Palmer, there's nothing wrong and you're not in trouble."

"Then…then…why are you here? I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you, but you know, I wasn't expecting it, and I don't have anything to offer, but I could run down the street for some coffee if you want," he offered, his eyes darting between the two men.

"Mr. Palmer, why don't we sit down, I don't believe Jethro nor I need any refreshments at this time," Ducky suggested, deftly guiding his young friend to a seat and taking the chair opposite. Gibbs gingerly settled himself on a couch that had seen better days. Though the furniture was second hand and there was little in the way of decorations, the apartment was clean and neat.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard, I just don't understand why you're here. It's Saturday, right?"

"Yes, it's Saturday. We were just at Mike Franks' funeral…"

"Oh, God, I forgot the funeral!" Jimmy interrupted, turning to Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs, I'm so sorry, I meant to attend and pay my respects. I mean, I didn't really know him, but everyone talked about what a great guy he is…was…and well, I'm sorry, I meant to be there."

"It's not a problem, Palmer," Jethro assured him, studying the younger man to determine if this was his usual jittery nervousness or something else. He exchanged a wordless glance with Ducky, trusting the older man would be better able to make that assessment.

Dr. Mallard considered his assistant critically. Though his clothing and person were clean, the large blue eyes were bloodshot and the brown hair uncombed. He picked at a loose thread at the knee of the sweatpants he wore, reluctant to look directly at his two superiors. It took Ducky only a moment or two to determine that while Palmer was indeed having some problems dealing with the events of the past week, it was not as bad as it could have been. It appeared he wasn't sleeping well, probably not eating all that well, but there was no odor of alcohol, and no sign of pharmaceutical assistance in the young man.

"My dear boy, we simply both felt badly that we had not followed up with you after Director Vance sent you home. E.J. and Kort had a chance to talk to the crisis counselors at the headquarters, but we neglected to make sure you had the same support. I apologize, lad, for being derelict in my duty as your boss."

"Oh, no, Dr. Mallard, you weren't derelict, not at all. I would never think so. And I'm fine, really. It's…well….I could use some more sleep probably, but really, I'm doing fine. You know, and I'll be ready to be back at the office Monday," Jimmy countered.

Ducky considered his assistant critically. "What part of the experience seems to be giving you the most trouble?" he queried gently.

"Um…well…all of it? I don't know. I mean, it was scary when he grabbed me and used me to threaten Agent Barrett. Then when we got to that building and Kort tried to take him out, he used me as a shield, which meant Kort couldn't shoot him. Cobb told Kort 'go ahead and shoot through this kid. He's supposed to get married next spring, save some lady a load of headache'. That was…well….because of me Agent Barrett and Kort got captured. And he was way harsher with them than me. He even…he…." Jimmy's breath hitched a bit.

"He what?" Ducky prompted, leaning forward and putting a comforting hand on the young man's knee.

"He…apologized!" Jimmy burst out. "How stupid is that? But that's what I keep coming back to. He planned to kill us all, we knew that, but I was the one he apologized to. I understand him wanting to kill Kort for what he did to him during his training, but Agent Barrett wasn't involved, he was just using her to get her uncle. But as he was setting us up for his water treatment, before he put the hood on me, he gently removed my glasses and put them in my pocket and said, 'sorry, Kid, but you're what they call collateral damage. Bad luck for you.' And the worst part is…he meant it. I think he didn't want to kill me, but he had to. It's stupid, I don't understand why that is what bothers me the most."

"He devalued you," Gibbs said from his perch. The other two turned their attention to him. Gibbs shrugged and continued. "Kort had value as an instrument of his revenge. Barrett had value as a way to punish the SecNav. By apologizing to you and calling you collateral damage, he was giving you the message that your death was pointless. No one wants a pointless death. But your death would not have been pointless, any more than your life is." Gibbs moved to crouch down in front of the medical student.

"Know this, you have tremendous value. To Ducky, to me, to Tony, Ziva, Tim, Abby, to all the other agents who depend on the answers you help provide. To all those families who have answers and closure now thanks to the work you and Ducky do. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but you have value to a very lucky young lady who plans to spend the rest of her life as Mrs. Palmer." Gibbs was pleased to see the slight blush that suffused the other man's face and the gentle, contented smile that thought brought.

"Cobb had his humanity systematically removed, he could not see value in anyone or anything beyond strategy. That is what makes him a tragic character in my mind," Ducky added.

Jimmy's blue eyes searched the other two men's, seeking the truth in what they were saying. What he found confirmed their sincerity and Palmer felt something tight and painful in his chest finally loosen.

"Sometime soon, young man, we will need to discuss this propensity you have for finding yourself in dangerous situations. Though, from what I heard, you comported yourself admirably," Dr. Mallard added, with a wink. "This will be a story for the grandchildren you and Breena eventually have, eh?"

For the first time since they arrived they saw Palmer's full-fledged smile. "Or, maybe even, one day years from now I'll have my own assistant to regale with stories of my experience. Meat puzzles, swallowed toes, all that."

"Indeed. Now, why don't you change into something more…suitable for public appearance…and join us. We are going to catch up with Tony and the rest at the bar to toast Mike Franks' life and times. We'd love to have you there," Ducky suggested, pleased to see how the younger man's expression further lighted up.

"Oh, oh…absolutely. Will only take a moment," Jimmy said, ducking into another room with his usual bounding energy.

"Well done, Jethro. Have you been studying psychology on the sly?" Ducky asked softly, not wanting Jimmy to overhear.

"No, but some of the training I had years ago included psychological manipulation. I never much cared for it, nor used it. But I remember the basics."

"Well, it came in handy today. I shall suggest Mr. Palmer ride with us, and I'll bring him home. I plan to make sure he gets some food in him. Really, it's amazing his diabetes is not acting up with him not eating enough. Something hearty and with protein. As I recall the bar has food service as well, basic fare but not too bad. Oh, good, you're ready," Ducky noted, not breaking stride in his comments as Jimmy locked his apartment and followed the two elder men. "I remember the time my friend Hector and I were stuck in this tiny town in Mexico, only one place to eat, the local cantina, They made the best tequila martinis you have ever had – yes, I said tequila martinis, a local specialty it seemed - and tacos made with homemade tortillas. Hector, he was…" Behind Ducky Jethro and Jimmy exchanged an amused glance before joining him in the elevator.

The End


End file.
